Love in the Time of Influenza
by HermioneGirl96
Summary: Baz thinks Simon is cheating on him. Simon thinks Baz is terrified of germs. Spoiler alert: they're both wrong. A one-shot.


**Disclaimer: Rainbow Rowell owns these characters.**

 **BAZ**

I'm pretty sure Simon's cheating on me.

It's fine.

I mean, obviously it's not fine, but like, on some level, good for him. Maybe he's finally found someone who deserves him. Of course, if he has, I wish he'd at least had the decency to break up with me, but I'm not mad. I never thought this would last. He's far too good for me.

This is getting ridiculous, though. He's not even subtle about anything. If I were going to cheat on Simon (which I would never, ever do), I'd tell him in advance that I'd be busy, that I had a test coming up, _something_. Something plausible that wouldn't be easy to refute. Instead, Simon tells me he'll be free and then at the last minute texts me that he's swamped in homework and he has to ditch our plans, and then he won't want to see me for days at a time. Or he tells me that he's doing something with Penelope, when Penelope's Instagram tells an entirely different story.

It's the fourth time this winter that Simon's done this, and, much though I love him, I've had enough. I decide to go to his flat. If he really is unexpectedly swamped in homework, I'll give him a hug and a peck on the cheek and let him get back to what he's doing. If I find him with someone else, well, I suppose we'll have to break up. I almost don't go, just because part of me would rather just keep dating him and not knowing than end the relationship, but I force that part of myself to shut up. I can't keep not knowing or nothing will ever be good again.

 **SIMON**

I'm pretty sure Baz is terrified of germs.

I don't remember what he has like when we were younger, but I know that starting around fifth or sixth year he would vacate the room whenever I got sick and literally only come back after I'd gone to bed. So now that we don't live together anymore, I've decided to make sure he doesn't have to deal with me when I'm sick. But I know he would insist on doting on me whenever I came down with anything if I let him—he's into self-sacrifice like that, and living up to his idea of what a "good boyfriend" should do—so I make an executive decision to lie to him when I'm sick. I don't enjoy lying to him, and I know it's not a good basis for a healthy relationship, but I'm pretty sure it's for the greater good. This way, he doesn't have to feel like he's failing me or being a bad boyfriend, and he still gets to avoid me when I'm sick. Problem solved.

I haven't told Penny about any of this. If I started to tell her the reason that Baz doesn't come around when I'm sick, I'd probably wind up also telling her that I'm lying to him, and I don't think she'd understand why I need to do that. She hasn't seen how deeply self-sacrificial he is, how he can never accept anything that might make his life easier. (Penny thinks I'm the self-sacrificial one, the one with the hero complex. Baz has me beat by a million miles. He would have denied himself a relationship with me if I'd let him. I could never have the strength to do that, no matter how much better if would be for the other person.) As it is, I've lied to Penny and told her that Baz is busy with homework when I've gotten sick. I can tell she's judging him a bit for not coming by to help take care of me, but I think that's better than telling her the truth, because I'm pretty sure that would result in telling _Baz_ the truth, which would put him in an impossible situation.

I've been sick a lot this winter, far more than I ever got sick at Watford. I suppose Watford was a really small community, whereas now I'm in London and exposed to probably thousands of different people every day. I guess I can understand why it would take my immune system awhile to adjust. But even so, this is getting ridiculous. I had the stomach flu in December, a cold at the beginning of January, laryngitis and another cold at the end of January, and now it's February and I have the actual flu, even though I got the flu jab in October. I haven't been to Dr. Wellbelove (or any other doctor), because I'm pretty sure it's all been viral, and neither medicine nor magic can do much about viruses. Penny's bought me over-the-counter medicine, and her frequent application of _**Get well soon**_ has definitely helped me get better faster than I would have on my own, but on some level all of my illnesses have been of the wait-it-out variety. Which is infuriating.

It's Wednesday evening and I haven't been to class or seen Baz since Monday, because I've had a fever of over 38.5 since I got up Tuesday morning. (It was briefly over 39 degrees, actually, but Penny's magic plus acetaminophen brought it down a bit.) I've basically been laying around in my pajamas ever since, coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose and intermittently trying to do some classwork so I don't get too behind. If my previous illnesses this winter are anything to go by, I should be better tomorrow or Friday at the latest, given how many times Penny has cast healing spells on me.

Around seven p.m., from my place in my room, I hear a knock at the door to our flat. I'm confused. I told Baz not to come around today, and no one else really visits us. (Baz still knocks because Penny doesn't want him coming in unannounced. I suppose that's fair, and I can't complain given how often she lets me have him round.)

I hear Penny walk to the door and open it, and then: "Baz? I thought you weren't coming round today. Simon said you had too much homework."

"I don't—just the usual amount." Baz sounds confused. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Penny sounds confused, too.

"Is Simon here?"

"Yeah, he's in his room. Though I should warn you—"

"He's not alone, is he," Baz interrupts. It's not even a question.

" _What_?" Penny's voice is shrill.

"That's what you were going to say, isn't it?" Baz sighs. "Is Simon cheating on me?"

My heart sinks. I messed this up good and proper, apparently. How could Baz think that?

"Have you _lost your mind_?" Penny demands. "Of course he isn't bloody cheating on you! He's sick, which is what I was going to tell you if you hadn't cut me off, and you're the rubbish boyfriend who can't be bothered to check in on him when he's ill!"

It's quiet for several seconds, and then Baz says, "He's sick?" There's a little quiver in his voice. Fear, probably. Now he's going to think he has to deal with me or else he'll be a "rubbish boyfriend."

"Yes, for the fourth time this winter! And you've never bothered to stop by to help take care of him! I mean, I don't _mind_ , but I would think you'd want to help!"

"I do!" Baz retorts. "He told me he was swamped in homework and I shouldn't come round! Which I thought was a bit suspicious given we had plans to go to the cinema!"

"It seems he's been lying to both of us," says Penny slowly.

"And we may have both jumped to conclusions," Baz agrees. Then he says, "Excuse me, Bunce, I think I have a boyfriend to check on."

It's just a second later when Baz pushes open the door to my room. If my cheeks weren't already flushed with fever, I'd probably be blushing self-consciously right now. I know I look a right state, in unwashed pajamas and greasy hair and unwashed sheets with a bin of used tissues next to me. But that's not what's important right now. What's important is making sure that Baz knows he doesn't have to take care of me.

"Baz," I croak, as he strides toward me, "you don't have to do this."

"What?" says Baz, pausing beside my bed.

"I know you're afraid of germs, Baz. It's okay. You can go back to Fiona's. I won't be mad at you. You're not a rubbish boyfriend for having boundaries." I turn away from him and cough into my elbow.

"'Afraid of germs'?" Baz echoes. "Love, where did you get that idea?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Baz. You don't have to pretend you're not. You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, all right?" I turn and cough again.

"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about right now." Baz does sound bewildered.

"You always avoided the room whenever I got sick at Watford," I say. "I can pick up on patterns. I'm not an idiot."

"Oh, that." Now Baz sounds relieved.

"You don't have to do this," I say. "Go back to Fiona's, or go to the cinema alone. It's fine, Baz."

"No," says Baz, sinking to his knees beside my bed. "You've misunderstood. The only reason I avoided the room when you were sick at Watford is that I desperately wanted to dote on you, and it was hard to keep up the guise of being enemies."

I cough into my elbow and then say, "Really?"

"Yes, love, really." He lifts a hand and then says, "Can I touch you?"

"Do you want to?" I ask.

"Yes, but only if that's okay with you."

"You're sure about this?"

"Simon, if you need me to leave you alone, or if you don't want to be touched, you can absolutely say so," says Baz. "Now that we're on the same page, I promise I'll do as you say. The last thing I want to do is cross a boundary of yours, especially when I'm sure you already feel like rubbish."

"No, Baz, I didn't mean—you can absolutely touch me; I just want to make sure you're not crossing your own boundaries. You're so selfless, and I just want to make sure you know you don't have to do things that make you uncomfortable, either." Too much talking—I turn away from Baz and have a full-on coughing fit, to the point where I feel like I'm going to throw up. I finally get myself under control, only to realize that at some point during the coughing fit Baz's hand wound up on my back. It's cool and feels so good, especially given how touch-starved I am after a couple of days of being too sick for human contact. But I'm still worried about Baz, so I say, "You don't have to do that."

"Simon. Love. I want to. If it's all right with you, that is."

"You're sure you're not scared of germs?" My voice is low and crackly.

Baz laughs. "Vampires are _immune_ to germs. I'm not afraid. There's nothing _for_ me to fear."

"Oh." I can't think of anything else to say.

"Exactly," says Baz. "Now, please, what can I do for you?"

I give in. "Could you get me some water? And then maybe cuddle? And cast some healing spells?"

Baz kisses my forehead. His cool lips feel so good against my burning skin. "Of course, love." Then he exits the room. I'm in the middle of another coughing fit by the time he gets back, and he rubs my back again as I get through it. Then he hands me the glass of water he brought and I gulp it down. Once I finish the water, he takes out his wand and casts several healing spells, and then he grabs the corner of the blanket and says, "Budge up." I move, and he gets into bed next to me and wraps his strong arms around me.

It feels so good just to relax into his embrace, but I can't let myself drift off, even though it's more or less nighttime. I force my eyes to stay open as I say, "Are we going to talk about the fact that you thought I was cheating on you?"

 **BAZ**

Now that I know what's really been happening, I feel like a suspicious idiot for thinking my boyfriend was cheating on me and for not realizing he was sick and trying to protect me. Now that I think about it, of course I remember how sleep-deprived and hoarse he's always been in the days right before he's cancelled our plans and told me not to come round. "I'm sorry, Simon," I say, running a hand through his (unwashed, greasy) hair. "I should have trusted you."

"It's okay, Baz," he says. "I was lying to you. It's my fault for not being honest. But have I really made you feel so unloved that you thought I would cheat?" His voice is wavering.

"No, Simon, of course not," I say immediately.

"But then why—?"

"I just know I'm not good enough for you, love," I say. "I thought maybe you'd found someone better."

I'm surprised by the sob that escapes Simon's lips. I wrap my arms around him more tightly and press kiss after kiss to his temple, whispering, "It's okay, love," in between kisses. He hangs onto me and cries for a couple of minutes before the sobs stop and he's reduced to gulping and snuffling. I detach one arm from him in order to pass him the tissue box from his nightstand, and he cleans up his face before chucking the tissues past me and into the bin next to the bed.

"What was that about, love?" I ask when I think he might be able to talk again.

"Sorry," he says, not meeting my eyes.

"Don't be sorry, Simon," I reply. "You have nothing to apologize for. You're sick; you're allowed to get emotional. Scratch that—you're always allowed to get emotional."

"Clearly I have lots to apologize for, if you have such a low opinion of yourself," he says. "We've been dating for over a year and you still think you don't deserve me? How can I have let this happen? How could I not have realized you needed affirmation?"

"Simon, I'm fine," I insist. "You have the flu. All of our energy should be focused on you right now."

"You're so selfless, Baz."

"Says the bloke who literally gave up his magic to save the world," I retort.

"No, really," says Simon. "You tried so hard not to get involved with me, even though you were in love with me, because you thought you weren't good enough for me and you didn't want to drag me down. I never would have had that kind of self-control. You're here in my bed, comforting me, even though I lied to you over and over. Even though I _know_ you have lots of homework. You're here with me. Even when you thought I was cheating on you, you didn't break up with me immediately; you came to check. You—" He breaks off to turn away from me and cough. I rub his back again.

"You still _sacrificed your magic_ ," I say when Simon's done coughing. "There's nothing more selfless than that."

Simon sighs. "I suppose it's not a competition. The point is, you're deeply selfless and wonderful and brilliant and an amazing boyfriend, and you never, ever need to worry that I'm going to cheat on you. I'm not ready to promise you that I'll be yours forever, but I can promise you that I'll do my best to be kind and decent no matter what the future holds."

"Can I kiss you?" I ask. Usually I'd just go for it—we're past that point—but things seem fragile today.

"Baz, I'm sick. That's a terrible idea."

"Simon, I repeat: I'm immune. Actually, I'm pretty sure vampire saliva is an antiseptic. You know, to keep us from getting poisoned by eating carrion. Studies on it are pretty sparse, but I've read it in multiple places."

Simon smiles at me shyly. How he still manages to get bashful, more than a year into our relationship, is anyone's guess. "Okay then."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," he says, and then he kisses me. I can tell he's exhausted, because there's nowhere near his usual amount of passion in the kiss, but still: lips in contact. I'm never not going to love this.

Awhile later, when I'm holding Simon and he seems to be drifting off, I suddenly remember something. "Love?" I say.

"Nnng?" he grunts in reply.

"Sorry to wake you, but have you ever had your iron levels tested?"

"Since when are you a doctor?" Simon mumbles.

"I'm not a doctor, but I remember one year when Daphne got really sick a lot and it turned out she had an iron deficiency. Apparently those can mess with your immune system. And if you've been sick every time you've cancelled our plans, that's kind of a lot of illness. I just wonder if it might be worth checking out."

"Okay," says Simon. Then he yawns. "But not right now. Right now is for sleeping." Then he pulls his head away from my chest and blinks at me several times. "Oh, sorry. You're still in your clothes."

"And neither of us has brushed our teeth," I reply.

"Oh, right," says Simon. He sits up, rubs his eyes, stretches, and then lurches out of bed. "Meet back in here in five?"

"Sure," I reply.

I change into the pyjamas I keep here, and we both brush our teeth (I have a toothbrush here as well), and then we get back into bed and Simon falls asleep rather quickly in my arms. I didn't realize how tense I was over his potential cheating until I found out I was mistaken. Now, with Simon sleeping beside me, I feel the tension melting out of my shoulders and back. I still feel terrible that he has the flu and that I jumped to conclusions, and he's still wrong about me being selfless, but, even so, I feel better than I did earlier today by miles.

I press one last kiss to his temple and whisper, "I love you." He just keeps snoring, and I fall asleep looking at him, just as I have so many times before.

 **A/N: Reviews and favorites are always lovely! Also! Get your iron levels checked!**


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